Setting the table.

The looks on the faces of the remaining survivors of what had been their village were as delightful as they were intriguing. Most just stared in horrified realization that they were dealing with something far, far more significant than any common monster. I was touched by the gods, and not the happy fluffy ones. The real ones; dark and terrifying. One of the women fainted.

The most interesting reaction was from one of the women who had been so aroused as I'd pleasured Jetta. Her eyes were absent of fear. If anything she looked overjoyed, eyes shining with wonder.

"Master!" she cried out and fell on her face before me, arms reaching across the floor in my direction. "Please, take this humble one first! My body is yours. Make me one with the Black Night, I beg you." She was young, perhaps mid-twenties, with long dark hair and a slightly plump figure that gave her some pleasant curves. She would make an excellent mother.

The other villagers somehow seemed even more shocked at her words than anything they'd seen that day. Some of them looked from her to me and back again, eyes wide. One of the women spit on the prostrate one, then looked at me in horror.

The Mantle burning within and around me somehow guided my senses, or perhaps it created brand new senses I couldn't understand yet. I didn't know this woman; I'd never seen her before. But Melanoche knew her. This woman worshipped the Black Night. She was a heretic to those around her but apparently felt safe in my presence to reveal her secret.

"I see you, Roslinde. Come here."

She began to crawl towards me and I sighed.

"Stand up, woman."

She came to me and fell on her knees before me, trembling as she drank in the sight of me up close. She reached and retracted her hands several times awkwardly, torn between touching me and being respectful.

I put a hand on her head to still her. "Quit fidgeting; that's annoying."

Her hands dropped to her lap immediately but she shivered with delight at my touch.

"I will put my children in you but you must serve me first."

"Anything! I will kill for you." She looked at Jetta, still pleasuring herself as commanded. "I will do a better job of it than she did."

"No, Roslinde." I took her hand and cast Mark onto the back of it, burning the flesh with Melanoche's crest. "What I require is a simple task."

Priest Skill: Dark Magic - Mark

"You belong to the Black Night now. In this life and the next. All of her servants will know you by this mark."

She cried out a little as the pain reached its peak, but it passed quickly and she purred happily. "Oh, thank you, Master. How can this one serve?"

I stretched a hand towards the man I'd killed and another to Liz's corpse.

Priest Skill: Create Undead - Level 1(x2)
Mana 31/130

Two fresh skeletal brutes sprang forth from the remains, prompting shrieks of terror from a few onlookers. Roslinde gasped in awe.

'You can start by talking like a normal person.' I wanted to snap at her, but instead I gestured to the skeletons and to the women behind her. "These will obey you in my presence. Prepare the women for me. Let no one leave. Do not kill anyone. Bring me first the blacksmith's wife. Now go."

She rose, spinning to face the other women. "You heard the Master. Get those dresses off." She went into the midst of the crowd, finding the petite woman and dragging her by her wrist to the front of the crowd. A man tried to interfere but was beaten down by an undead minion. "Quit struggling, Desha, you have been chosen first. It's a great honor you skinny little bitch!"

Roslinde was taller and heavier than little Desha and it wasn't long before she'd torn the dress from her body and wrestled her shift over her head. She threw the naked woman to the ground at my feet, breathing heavily but grinning triumphantly.

I could have plucked her form the group myself and stripped her much more easily and quickly, but I took some pleasure in watching the women struggle against one another. In watching a human eagerly carry out my wishes, even going so far as to sacrifice one of her own neighbors to my lusts. Roslinde may not have been powerful, but she was loyal. Zealous, even. I liked letting her serve me.

The blacksmith's wife trembled on the floor. She'd encountered me once before and knew my strength. More than any of them, she knew to be afraid. The Mantle only magnified her fright. She was such a tiny thing. Five foot two, sporting perky little breasts with prominent nipples. Her body was athletic and toned, her skin tan. I wondered what she did around the village to earn a body like that.

I took my time snaking long tentacles around her slender body, lifting her from the floor and drawing her limbs tight. I turned her to face me as my cock crept out of its sheath. It was huge next to her diminutive frame. She'd ever be able to take the whole thing; it would tear her in half. Part of me wanted to do it to her. Just for the novelty of taking a life with my dick. But she would be more useful alive. Besides, she was very attractive. I'd want to fuck her more than once.

As I pulled her down onto the tip of my cock and she began to cry, I sighed with delight. There was nothing quite like a brand new cunt to destroy. The first six inches entered her easily and I grinned. Her husband had been a big boy. I grabbed her around the middle with both hands and pulled her down firmly until she grunted. About ten inches. I smiled at her. "I bet you like it rough, don't you you little slut?"

Before she could answer I shoved a tentacle between her teeth and pulled her head back so I could watch her throat bulge around it. She thrashed against my tentacles but all she managed to accomplish was to turn me on even more.

The moans of my Priestess behind me reached a crescendo as her first masturbatory orgasm claimed her.